


Never a bad hair day

by epithalamium



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Spoilers for chapters 49-53, shaving fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithalamium/pseuds/epithalamium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You need to shave,' said Rivaille, the tips of his fingers barely touching Erwin as he traced the line of Erwin's jaw. 'You look hideous. More so than usual.'</p><p>'You're just the thing my vanity needs,' said Erwin. The mere act of sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, took up whatever reserve of strength he had left. He couldn't afford to look too weak in front of other people, but this was Rivaille, and Rivaille had seen enough of Erwin at his worst for it to matter. Wallowed in shit, indeed. 'But we don't have the time for that right now.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never a bad hair day

**Author's Note:**

> Of course we all need to write about Mary. (Thanks so much to [DarkCyradis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCyradis/pseuds/DarkCyradis) for the SPAG! XD)

Regret chased away the feeling of relief when he opened his eyes and realised he was still, surprisingly, alive. Not whole, never that; the literal finally catching up with metaphors and he would have found it amusing had he the time for existential ponderings.

Besides which, Erwin didn't think the man who slumped sleeping on the most uncomfortable chair in the room would find anything funny about the current situation.

'Rivaille.'

Rivaille didn't even have the grace to startle into wakefulness; blinking at Erwin and straightening up from what Erwin could only think was a surprising display of masochistic tendencies. Rivaille shifted into a more comfortable position, crossing his legs and brushing out the wrinkles from his jacket.

'You could have slept on the sofa.' In fact, Erwin thought Rivaille better off sleeping in the perfectly serviceable bed in his own room, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

'I didn't plan on falling asleep on your cursed chair,' said Rivaille, 'If that's what you were implying. Fucking murder on the back. I don't know why you keep it.'

Erwin shrugged, the movement stiff as his right shoulder gave a twinge, but he schooled his expression not to show pain--a trick he was past master at, if nothing else. 'I thought you were fond of it.'

'Bollocks.'

'How long have I been unconscious?' said Erwin, when it became obvious that Rivaille was determined to give him the doubtful pleasure of coming up with all the conversational gambits this time around. From another person, Erwin would have pegged this courtesy as a silence held in wary respect: walking on eggshells around the commander who had lost so much, and still not enough to make up for all his sins. But considering this was Rivaille, who certainly never bothered with eggshells unless they were improperly disposed of, the silence had a pointed aspect.

There was nothing in the expression on Rivaille's face that betrayed what he was feeling, but Erwin could feel the tampered anger anyway. He was starting to wonder if Rivaille would ignore the question altogether when Rivaille finally spoke.

'Long enough.' He exhaled loudly through his nose. 'Commander Pixis has been skulking around the barracks since you got back, demanding to know if you'd woken yet. I would have told him to fuck off and take care of things himself, but I didn't think you'd appreciate the gesture.'

'Commander Pixis has had to deal with a great number of problems for the past few years,' Erwin pointed out. 'He's been holding out quite well, considering the extreme circumstances he's had to work with. And some details regarding recent events _are_ out of his jurisdiction.'

'He wants to share the fucking up with someone, you mean.'

Erwin wouldn't have been quite as obvious as giving an 'ah' of satisfaction in finding one thread that might help in the unravelling of Rivaille's ill temper; as it were, he gave Rivaille a smile instead.

'I can hardly be considered blameless at this point.'

'So he wants to share the fucking up with someone who's wallowed in so much shit a few more won't make a difference.'

Erwin sighed. He hadn't been conscious when the Legion got back inside the Wall, and so had failed to see Rivaille's initial reaction to seeing his commanding officer brought so low. It seemed, however, that Rivaille was more than willing to give him a repeat performance. In tone, if not verbatim.

'We all have our responsibilities and roles we must play,' he said, softly.

'Everyone needs someone to blame, when it all goes down to shit,' said Rivaille.

Erwin didn't answer, and after a while Rivaille finally stood up from his chair and stepped closer to the side of Erwin's bed.

'Be sure to eat something before meeting with the old bastard,' said Rivaille. 'Only Hanji and I know you've woken up, for now.'

'Thank you.'

'You'll regret it soon enough.'

Erwin smiled at that, looking away so Rivaille wouldn't see the expression on his face.

'You need to shave,' said Rivaille, the tips of his fingers barely touching Erwin as he traced the line of Erwin's jaw. 'You look hideous. More so than usual.'

'You're just the thing my vanity needs,' said Erwin. The mere act of sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, took up whatever reserve of strength he had left. He couldn't afford to look too weak in front of other people, but this was Rivaille, and Rivaille had seen enough of Erwin at his worst for it to matter. Wallowed in shit, indeed. 'But we don't have the time for that right now.'

What Erwin really wanted was to lie back again, close his eyes against the too-bright sunlight coming through the open windows of his room, and savour the feeling of Rivaille's fingers almost touching his cheek. But he'd already wasted precious time laid up in bed; executive decisions that not even his Corporal could make put on hold against his recovery. Erwin had to satisfy himself with reaching out and taking Rivaille's hand in his own, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go.

'Later then,' said Rivaille. 'Or I'd be needing my blades to get the job done.'

'It's not so bad as all that?'

'You look like Mike having a bad day,' said Rivaille. Erwin looked up at that, his eyes meeting Rivaille's briefly, shared pain and frustration, and Rivaille would have apologised, had already opened his mouth when Erwin gave a shrug again. This time the movement felt like the right side of his body had been set on fire, but he bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed back a cry of pain.

'You'll just have to make me pretty again, I suppose.'

'I don't like wasting resources on a hopeless cause.' Rivaille leaned down, touching his lips to Erwin's. He didn't pull away as he started talking, just the breadth of a strand of hair between them. 'One of the men will bring you some food. And your plates better be clean when I get back. You need all your strength for your meeting with Pixis later.'

'Yes, mum,' said Erwin, as Rivaille finally pulled away. 'Are there going to be rewards for all the good boys?'

'We'll see,' said Rivaille. 'It depends on how good you'd be, wouldn't it?'

*

The meeting with Commander Pixis had been a nightmare, but Erwin had expected as much, the chain of events that pulled all of mankind down and it was as if the military were fighting against the titans and human nature alike. It was Hanji's hypothesis that served as the crowning glory of it all, and that was what had almost pushed Erwin clear off the edge; the realisation that everything he had done, had made his men do, all those sacrifices made and failed missions, amounted to the same thing.

Rivaille found Erwin still sitting in bed, back resting against the headboard once more--a weakness he had refused to show in front of Pixis and the others--and his hand on his forehead, fingers trying to ease the throbbing of his temples.

'I hope to Sina you haven't been sitting there brooding since the meeting.'

Erwin didn't answer, eyes following Rivaille as he placed a flat wooden box on the table next to Erwin's bed. Erwin had given Rivaille that box as a present years ago; steel razors that gleamed against worn velvet resting inside, well-used but likewise very well-kept. The soap mug, shaving brush, and strop followed the box. 

'So,' said Rivaille, picking up one of the razors and taking the blade out with the flick of a wrist. 'Have you been a good boy?'

'How am I supposed to say otherwise with you pointing that thing at me?' said Erwin, watching as Rivaille applied the razor to the strop.

'Exactly.' 

'Really, Rivaille. I don't know why your men love you so much.'

'My charming personality?' Rivaille suggested. He clearly thought the blade was sharp enough, because he placed the razor back on the desk and got the soap mug ready, quick circular movement with the brush that got the soap to a froth. Erwin would have made a suggestive--if lame--jest about that, if it weren't so painfully obvious that Rivaille's temper was still high. Erwin was yet unforgiven.

'I'm always a good boy, Rivaille,' said Erwin, in his best wheedling tone and with a liberal application of his most winning smile. It never seemed to work on Rivaille, but one can always hope. It was the only thing left to mankind, after all.

'Tell that to the Council,' said Rivaille. He moved closer to Erwin, one knee resting on the mattress, sudsy shaving brush in one hand. Erwin braced himself to flinch, but the soap water was warm and he almost sighed in relief. So. Rivaille wasn't _that_ angry.

'Perhaps I can have cook make some eel pies later,' said Erwin, carefully speaking through the lather that Rivaille had spread over the lower half of his face. 'Hanji said Nile left us some eels this morning. No telling how he got them--'

Rivaille gave a snort at that. His raised eyebrow told Erwin that they were both perfectly aware how Nile Dawk had procured the fish. Meat was scarce enough, even for military officers as high on the pecking order as Erwin and Nile, but nowadays only the very rich families even knew what fresh fish looked like. That was, unless one was married to someone who worked at a bar frequented by Council members. Noblemen who would have turned their noses at the stew and loaves of bread the rest of the world had to make do with daily.

Erwin wondered if it would have been wiser to pick up Rivaille's razor and cut his own throat with it. But Rivaille beat him to it, hands gentle as he applied the razor to Erwin's cheek. The blade was cold against Erwin's skin, but probably not as cold as Rivaille's glare.

'Rivaille--'

'Stop squirming,' said Rivaille, tone implying how easy it would be for his hand to slip. 

All right, Erwin decided. Rivaille hadn't been that angry previously. But he certainly was now.

'I thought you liked eel pies.'

'And I thought I told you to stop squirming.'

So Erwin remained silent as Rivaille shaved off a week's worth of stubble from his face, in a sure and quick application of the razor. 

'Perhaps when all this is done,' Erwin couldn't resist saying, 'you can find work as a barber.'

'Working with a different sort of blade, you mean?' said Rivaille. He didn't question Erwin's visions of the future. But then again, he never did. 'And what would you be doing?'

'Enjoying eel pies.' That earned Erwin another raised eyebrow, and he went on before Rivaille could make a cutting comment about flirting with barmaids. 'While I wait for you to finish with your work.' He smiled. 'Although considering your admirers, you'd probably have people queuing up daily to see you. Young men would all be so clean-shaven.'

'They'd be paying for your eel pies,' said Rivaille. 'You should be grateful.'

Erwin reached out before Rivaille could move off the bed in search of a clean towel, and Erwin was mildly grateful that Rivaille had chosen to stand to Erwin's left side. He wondered if it had been deliberate; knowing Rivaille, it probably was.

He caught Rivaille's wrist, the hand that was holding the razor. 

'Rivaille.'

Rivaille took a deep breath. 'I know.'

'It hadn't been the right time, or Mary the right person,' Erwin continued. He didn't know who needed to hear it more: Rivaille or himself. But he wanted to say it out loud anyway, even if the words themselves were unnecessary.

'I know.' Rivaille's voice was softer. 'That's not the issue, Erwin.'

He was right. Erwin knew Mary was the least of their problems; that Rivaille had allowed him to bring the subject up was only to remind Erwin that it wasn't the first time he tried to do the right thing against his own well-being.

'I'm sorry,' said Erwin.

'No you're not,' said Rivaille. It was never easy to read the expressions on his face, but Erwin thought he looked almost amused; perhaps even fondly exasperated. 'And you'll do the same thing all over again. You take too much risk,' he paused, gently freeing his wrist from Erwin's grip and placing the razor on top of its case, 'and not enough.'

'I think I already did.' That was pointed, heavy with implication: Or you wouldn't be here.

Rivaille remained next to Erwin's bed, back half-bent so that he was still leaning over Erwin. 'I'll tell cook about the eel pies.'

Erwin had a moment to be thankful about Rivaille's taste in jabots, his hand catching the neck piece as Rivaille was unbending, tugging so Erwin could bring Rivaille's face down to kiss.

Rivaille's lips were soft and pliant, his teeth biting painfully at Erwin's lower lip and forcing him to open his mouth. Erwin was vaguely aware of the lather that was left on his face, the scent of soap and sweat faint against the astringency of the ointment someone had applied to Erwin's wounds. Rivaille's mouth was warm and tasted bitter. What had he been drinking to keep himself awake all those nights, sitting guard by Erwin's bed?

Their teeth met clumsily, messy kiss reminiscent of the first time. Probably one of the few moments when Erwin risked hurting someone aside from himself.

'Rivaille--'

'Don't worry about it.' And Rivaille was lifting Erwin's nightshirt up--Erwin had to wonder who had changed his clothes, although that wasn't the point here, the point was that--

Rivaille's breath was warm and ticklish against the sensitive flesh of Erwin's cock, Rivaille's tongue moving lightly over the tip before finally taking it in his mouth. Erwin's back arched, and Rivaille made a soothing sound, as if to calm a spooked horse.

As the titan's teeth bit down at Erwin's arm, pulling hard enough Erwin could feel his muscles tear as he was unmounted from his horse--a split second to think of Eren and the mission, of Rivaille--

Rivaille's mouth let go of Erwin's cock, and he must have lain down the bed at some point of the proceedings, because he sat back up again, vision darkening as the pain cut through the haze of desire. Panic made his voice break, words spoken overly loud in the relative silence of the room.

'What are you--?'

'Shh, it's all right.' Rivaille was reaching out for the soap mug, dipping his fingers in before settling himself again between Erwin's thighs. 'It's all right, Erwin.'

More words left unsaid; Rivaille going back to sucking Erwin's cock, unhurried and gentle, soapy fingers probing at Erwin's arsehole, patiently waiting for Erwin to relax.

Erwin bit at his lower lip hard when Rivaille's fingertips ghosted against his prostate, almost driving him past the very edge. The movements of Rivaille's fingers mirrored that of Erwin's cock in his mouth, and Erwin heard someone moan, although he wasn't sure who had made the sound.

'Come,' said Rivaille, around Erwin's cock. It's all right. I'm here.

And Erwin obeyed, hand clutching at Rivaille's hair, trying not to thrust too hard against Rivaille's mouth. It was too much, Rivaille couldn't take it all, Erwin's come dripping down his chin as he tried to swallow the rest.

Erwin didn't even have the strength to turn his head and look at Rivaille as he stood up from the bed. 

'Now where the fuck is that towel?'

And for the first time in what felt like years, Erwin laughed.


End file.
